


The Broken and The Damned

by MozuTheMochi



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Cuddling & Snuggling, Depression, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Lots of cuddles, M/M, Rating May Change, Slight OOC, Slow Burn, Victuri, im trash, lots of minor ocs - Freeform, prepare for cuteness, victuri for life, viktor is a cinnamon roll
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2018-08-24 00:23:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8348980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MozuTheMochi/pseuds/MozuTheMochi
Summary: He's tired of being lonely.He's tired of quitting.Katsuki Yuuri wanted nothing more but a change, wanted nothing more than something to break the silence of his life in Yokohama.And suddenly, there's Viktor Nikiforov, the famous skating prodigy who wanted nothing more but inspiration.Oh, and did Yuuri ever mention that they're neighbours now?(It is when Yuuri realised that it was okay to not be okay, and Viktor to know that it was okay to be human too.)





	1. Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I'm not Russian nor Japanese, I didn't know anything about these two cultures asides from what's in Google and well, anime. So, the italics I put in dialogues indicates foreign language (asides from Japanese) that follows up to the character's origin. And since we're not exposed much to the anime yet, I sort of make an AU here where I can write domestic fluff. In here, Yuuri never made it to the Grand Prix Finale. Instead, he lost in the nationals and somehow quit for a while.
> 
> PS, English is not my native tongue. But for now, I'm too busy to take any Beta Reader.
> 
> So yeah, enjoy!

Sometimes, Katsuki Yuuri might find himself in the odds of identity crisis.

Perhaps, well, he wouldn't call his dilemma as an identity crisis, he knew he was doing ― he just wasn't sure if he was on the right track of his life or not. Whatever it was, he hoped it wasn't the latter. For God's sake, he was twenty-three and yet, still a confused, wondering man.

And he wasn't one to brag about himself. Sure, he had talent ― but not one that rivaled a professional. In fact, he considered himself mediocre than anyone else. And he wasn't the most confident about his looks as well. What could anyone see within a twenty-year old man that looked slightly younger than his apparent age, with a gut slightly lumpier than an average skater and being a raven with eyes a normal shade of brown?

He was, he admitted, plain.

But who cares? Now, he had a degree to finish and skating classes to look forward too.

At the very least, his life wasn't as bad as anyone would've thought of.

Well, asides from his one and only companion in Yokohama had only recently passed away. Sure, it was just a dog ― one might thought, but to him whose entire family currently resided in Kyushu, located in an entirely different part of Japan than his currently home, happened to be the worst occurrence for the past few months.

And it felt cold, in midsummer rain, to idle outside for too long. He had done his job here, though he wished the landlady wouldn't find out about the mini burial and get himself kicked out of the apartment. He was already lucky enough to find a furnished apartment which allowed pets in Yokohama. In fact, he was lucky to have a part time job and a university and enough money to deal with food.

Yuuri might be lonely, but at least, he was fine.

The day continued to drizzle, perhaps even the skies crying tears for the loss of his dear poodle, Vicchan. He might as well cried a tear or two, but Yuuri was done being depressed and all. The last thing the raven wanted was a further breakdown. He slipped back into his apartment on the seventh floor, putting asides his shoes muddied from puddles and wet soil.

The apartment wasn't the smallest here, it was pretty pricey before the landlady (bless her) decided to put off a cheap discount for poor university student like him, but it was the scattered books and unwashed mugs that made the apartment looked slightly off.

A student's life, as they all said.

It would take another hour before his teaching hours, Yuuri might as well cleaned himself from the downpour. He checked the surroundings, one without his companion. There was a lacking of a familiar _thump-thump-thump_ and the only barks came from his imagination. So far, so distant. He felt a stab in his heart.

Maybe, he _do_ needed a change.

"Ah, Yuu-chan! You're early today!" The manager of the Kanagawa Skating Rink, Onoe Mineko, greeted him with her usual bubbly grin, "The kids will only arrive for about an hour from now."

"Yeah, I know. I just felt like freshening up my skills today," Yuuri responded with the same amount of courtesy. Mineko was a pleasant sunshine for a woman in her early thirties, although some might gossiped about the predicament of her marriage.

The brunette stretched her smile, albeit softened, to Yuuri. "Oh Yuu-chan, don't repent about what happened last year. You've got to be confident about yourself, you know. Although," she paused and lowered her stare, "You do need to get to work about your little chunk over there, but your skills are fine."

"Losing is an embarrassment, it's not that fine, Mine-san. . ." He deadpanned, but still smiling. "But I guess since Vicchan died yesterday, I might as well ease my loneliness with some work out. It's not wrong, right?"

"Of course," her eyes were that of sympathy, "But don't be too harsh on yourself, okay?"

The raven thought of it for a while, head lowered, before he answered thoughtfully, "I'm not, really."

After tying the last laces of his skates, and replacing his square-rimmed glasses with a pair of contacts, he glided his way to the centre of the rink. Without music, he glided and spun, only imagining the tunes by heart. He practiced a routine from a year back, preparing his body ― both stamina and skills ― for three jumps later on, and continued to proceed with his sequences. The first jump was led by successfully, but then came the second; one he wasn't fond of and have yet to mastered but he attempted anyway, pushing his energy to lift his feet and sprang and landed with a clumsy slip and crashed onto the cold ground. Yuuri whimpered, just as similar as how it would date back in 2015.

Japan Figure Skating Championships, live in telly throughout the whole Japan. Even his family had been watching him performed, and his friends who were much as better dancers and skaters than him.

Perhaps, it was the nervousness. The anxiety that pulled from his chest. He worked his spin sequences rather fine, followed by the toe loop ― it was okay, he mastered it ― but when it came to a Salchow, his breathing just stopped and the fear rushed in. The next moment, he found himself slipping onto the ground. Yuuri rose bitterly with shaky limbs, and dreadfully drowned himself in the musters of the crowd.

In the end, he came off the second last place and defeated, then he stopped altogether to pursue a life as a student instead.

And that was why he was here in Yokohama, alone and beaten, to find solace just to end up tutoring kids ranging from ten-year old to fourteen-year old to skate.

He heard gasps, younger voices that weren't there a few minutes ago. Unfazed but shocked, Yuuri stood up to find his five students looking at him with a certain amount of concern.

The eldest amongst them, Uno Hiroji, went straight up to him to check if he was alright from the impact. Yuuri's left shoulder did felt a slight ache after all.

"Sensei, are you sure you're alright?" Hiroji swallowed, paled from looking at the brief perturb that crossed his teacher's face. "I mean we can still train tomorrow, we're all free on Sunday."

Yuuri shook his head. "It's okay. Skaters fall all the time."

He thought about putting ice later on, but not until he gave the five of them a short routine to work on.

Mineko checked on his shoulder a while after, gave him ice which followed with the predicted line of worried stares. Yuuri mimicked the frown marred on her face, though his was a purpose against hers, as his hands shakily fumbled on wiping his lenses clean.

"I told you not to be harsh on yourself."

"I'm not."

"Come on, Yuu-chan, we all can see that," she insisted, her voice sterner than the usual chirpiness, "Even Akane-chan could see that!" She said, mentioning the only ten-year old in Yuuri's skating bunch. "Perhaps, you should take a day off. Ruri and Daizo can tutor them for today."

It came off as an instruction, much to his dismay.

"But I'm ―"

"No, no, no. Day's off, still paying," she removed the ice pack and stood up from her seat, "Now go. You need to relax."

Within minutes, Yuuri found himself outside the arena. And again, he was left to brood on his thoughts alone.

What a disaster.

* * *

 

In some ways, Viktor Nikiforov was considered amongst the lucky ones throughout the figure skating history. That, or he was bound to be God damn talented and drop dead gorgeous, like the fame had fell in love within first sight and was now kissing his toes and worship his being since he was sixteen.

It somehow worked like that for the light-haired man.

Within years, he found himself rising as a champion within competitions, district levels to state to national and rose high after winning five consecutive times in the Grand Prix Final and World Championships. Not to mention, he was charming not just for his skating talent, but irresistible for his looks. . . or was it because he was just so damn charismatic and flirtatious as hell?

Simply to say, his life had already prepared everything for him.

Talent. Fame. Money.

All within his grasp from the effort he worked so elegantly for the past couple of years.

Yet, why did he felt like something was missing in his life currently? Viktor could confirmed that he was feeling rather fine, and was doing his usual routine; training, actively boosting pictures to Instagram ― mostly consisted of his face in every corner of streets he deemed interesting and his poodle dog, Makkachin ― eating out, socialising, gym exercising,Instagram again, maybe even Twitter. . .

It was his usual thing, after all, but for what reasons today Viktor felt a buzzing rush of tediousness to what he was doing.

He stopped his exercise midway, and glanced toward the Asian woman that had been counting his push-ups.

"Excuse me, _pretty lady_ , mind telling me where do you come from?" His question followed by a mischievous wink.

The woman, just as he predicted, flushed a deep crimson colour against her pale skin and stammered her words. "K-K-Kobe, but I think my family moved to Yokohama last summer. . . I think they wanted a better city life?"

"I see," he mused, "Is Yokohama fun?"

"I. . . I guess? I mean, it's more fun traveling to other countries though," the lady whimpered, "Why did you asked, though?"

The gray-haired man paused for a moment, as if he was deep in thought, but then he smiled genuinely toward her. Not as genuinely as she thought though, Viktor was always the cunning type of man, and he spoke with a sheer amount of determination.

"Then, I'll guess I'll head off to Yokohama!" The statement followed with his signature, carefree smile ― beaming though, with the foolish decision he made.

" _What_?!"

Too bad, Yakov just made an entrance to the small changing room bringing news about an upcoming tournament before hearing the sudden outburst coming from the famous skater.

"What are you talking about, _you idiot_!" Yakov burst out, a steam of anger puffing through and the Japanese lady immediately rushed out of the room to avoid his further turmoil. Yakov was known for his temper, if not his good coaching.

"Don't worry!" Viktor was still beaming despite the mood he put Yakov in, "I'll just tell the media that I would be taking a year break and I'll go to Yokohama!"

"But I just got you into ―"

"Cancel them!" He disrupted, joyously and fled just as quick as he would gain the idea.

And that was how a couple of days later, he found himself in Yokohama, seeking out a comfortable apartment to stay in for a year. The media and his fans, in fact the whole wide world, was surprised by his sudden news. But Viktor had gave them a good excuse that would save him some peace for a couple of months.

Yokohama was indeed a nice city, but of course, he somehow had hoped that he settled in a much rural place. Silence was something he needed in life, but that didn't meant that Japan had not taken his immediate regard. In fact, he had been posting twenty pictures just the day upon arrival on every places he stumbled upon.

And now all he needed was a place to stay. One that included pets to stay freely inside his living abode. And perhaps, one that wasn't too far from a skating arena.

Sure, he had taken a break but that didn't meant stopping skating altogether. The only thing he missed, and he only sort of realised once he made a haste excuse which turned out not to be a half-assed lie after all, was inspiration.

Viktor Nikiforov might be famous, might be talented, but he was still human.

And humans were able to lack inspiration, as well.

It made him sick to the bottom of his gut, skating without a purpose ― was it just to win? Where was his passion? Was skating just a matter of gliding on ice that was led with jumps and spins and elegant waves of hand movements? Sometimes, the man might ponder the reasons he was skating, and he felt dull.

He needed something.

An anchor to bring back the purpose that led him to a deemed perfection which was his life.

A light to guide him back.

* * *

 

Katsuki Yuuri had never spent an entire night just to work on tedious, dreadful assignments. At most times, the stressed life of being a student was what made him wished he never quit figure skating before, and he found himself confessing that thought to his childhood friend, Nishigori Yuko who was running the arena back in Kyushu.

He was more than plain exhausted. He was homesick, and he wanted sleep.

But damn, morning had just yet to be a bitch and came to greet his eyes which became a shocking even to him in a spur of a moment ― because, what the hell, how much did he lost track of time anyway?

"Holy spirits ―" Yuuri had only another couple of hours before Sports Science class settle in.

And he had not fucking sleep, or shower or eat dinner ― breakfast, for the current state of the day.

Then, whatever loathing he had was disrupted by a barking sound that seemed to come from a nearby distant. His heart lurched from such sound, yet for now, it brought him distress and he wanted nothing more than to alert his neighbour that it was rude to disturb a shitty student's morning with loud barks.

Begrudgingly, and slightly overwhelmed and somewhat melancholic (he still can't get rid of Vicchan), Yuuri stepped out of his own apartment in nothing more but a simple tee and jogging trousers to knock on the neighbour's door. Actually, he sort of banged the door because he was, well, sort of pissed.

Well, one thing for sure, Yuuri had experiences on figure skating. So, he might as well had knowledge on the prodigies of such sport. Of course, he was familiar with the current star named none other than Viktor Nikiforov. Heck, it was his idol and inspiration and it used to be the reason why he started skating. But it wasn't in his knowledge that the one recently lived beside his own apartment was the figure skating star himself.

The door budged open, slowly as to create suspense to poor Yuuri, but soon revealed a top-naked Viktor in a sleepy state. His torso was bare, and damn, was he muscular and well-built and gorgeous.

Whatever Yuuri was thinking, whatever he was mad about a second ago ― screw them, he lost his purpose of banging his neighbour's door in the middle of an early sunrise morning.

Because he was standing face to face in front of Viktor Nikiforov, the one and only!

Yuuri pushed back his glasses to the bridge of his nose, to get his lenses clear and fixated at Viktor himself, who was yawning and stretching his arms before finally returning the stare with a childlike smile.

"Y-Y-You. . . You're V-Viktor, right?" The raven wanted nothing more than to confirm, to know.

And the response the gray-haired man was something he found relief on, somehow.

"Of course, and who could you be?" Replied Viktor, still smiling obliviously.

Oh God, oh God. . .

When Yuuri pleaded for a change, he did not meant having the one and only Viktor Nikiforov as his neighbour.


	2. Beauty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's short, I know. But hey, I'm typing it phone.
> 
> 9 more days to my exams, and am still chilling. Brah.

"Y-Y-You. . . You're Viktor, right?"

He was stuttering, mind blown from the sight, and perhaps he swore his lenses would crack upon another second of linger.

Such were the sheer surprise that hit Yuuri like a hammer to a nail, he stood frozen and gaping much like a fool. The rest of his voice, gone. Who wouldn't? When one had a chance to meet eye to eye with their favourite idols in such an unprepared terms and conditions, perhaps they wouldn't be able to make it alive.

"Of course, and who could you be?"

Supposedly, it had been his usual carefree demeanour that showed like he was feigning little care and he was just showing courtesy of being a neighbour. But Viktor couldn't help but marvelled at the sight of this certain Japanese, propped up messily against his doorstep and looking very much lifeless.

He leaned closer, cunningly, with a sole purpose of doing his excusable observation to the plain brown eyes that held behind thick lenses. It would be much better if this man wore lenses, revealing more of this pair of round orbs — he'd looked greater, sharper; apparently what Viktor was currently thinking. Short stature, and curves on some parts of his body, and held a somewhat demure and genuine expression concealed beneath pressure and stress. Yes, Viktor was reading him.

"Is something the matter, hm?" He cooed, voice slicked with natural smoothness.

Great. The smaller man flushed against his question, and he responded with another set of stutters. "N-N-Nothing, I just want to say h-hey. . .?" He gulped, "From today onwards, I guess I'm your neighbour. . ."

"Ah, hello then!"

There were more than just a greeting that Viktor wanted to express, but due to embarrassment — perhaps? — the man had fled off to his own home in haste, spouting his thick layer of anxiety in the air.

Viktor blinked for a couple of moments, before his lips curled into a smile. Amusing, he thought.

But just as he was to close the door, the thought — and such an essential matter too — clicked in his head as his brief joy turned into a pit of regret. The gray-haired man scowled, ignoring the barks coming from Makkachin in the kitchen.

"I forgot to ask his name."

* * *

 

To Viktor, it was a wasted opportunity but Yuuri felt like he had done a mistake of a lifetime.

What was he doing?

Looking back, he wished that at the very least, he'd done his hair proper and brush his teeth or change a pair of shorts to something decent. But no, no, no; it just had to be Viktor of all people!

He'd blew himself off, and how much mistakes should he drown himself into much longer? When would he stop being such a foolish dork, despite the futile wariness he'd been putting effort too?

No, no.

He'd still acted like a stammering mess, like a girl confessing to a crush — but Viktor being his centre of affection in the figure skating department, wasn't that considered a crush?

Yuuri blushed against his own mortifying thought, and slapped himself to a much redder skin afterwards.

And why on earth was he here? Yuuri knew that he wouldn't be staying in Yokohama without a reason. At least, he suspected much of it.

"Focus, Yuuri — God, what time is it?"

Well, fortunately, he wasn't late. Sleeping in class — well, that was normal, but he wasn't late as he would have normally been. Perhaps, it was all thanks to his adrenaline rush from the events that early morning had he dashed off quickly, just to avoid another encounter with a certain Russian.

And by evening, he found himself propped against the clear, stone-hard ice once again. Skates ready, and he positioned himself for another practice of his jumps. He had all the time he needed, at least until 7PM when Hiroji pleaded for a training.

Apparently, Yuuri wasn't aware when a pair of foreign eyes were watching him from a distant. More than watching, he was observing since the routine began, sapphire eyes darting from the left corner to the right as Yuuri skated across in a smooth motion.

He'd been a tad bored just lingering in his new apartment. Viktor didn't come to Yokohama with a purpose to idle after all, he came to find inspiration. After talking to the landlady, she had stated that there was indeed a tenant who worked part time in the Kanagawa Ice Rink — it turned out the said tenant was, surprisingly, his neighbour.

And he was good, too. Well, good in Viktor's eyes as in the raven had so much potential. As if he could do so much more. . . Was it because of how, even with the faint music, he was beautiful. As if he was the one leading the rhythm — not the rhythm leading him.

It was when Yuuri failed his third — or was it second? — jump that Viktor broken his reverie, and his eyes reverted back from wonder to the hissing raven. But the skater rose once again and continued, there was a fiery passion — although within a small amount but present — in the brown eyes. Viktor couldn't contain the ability to suppress his smile any longer, and he did so with amusement.

" _Interesting_. . ."

Then, Yuuri just stopped altogether. Instead, he glided to the metal bars to catch up the remnants of his breathings.

When the raven looked up, his brown eyes were met with Viktor's blue. His breaths stopped altogether, whatever composure Yuuri had seemed to drown itself and he just squealed.

Yes, squealed. Almost girlish and high-pitched yelp that escaped his lungs without his gain of control and he just dove to a crouching position, hiding his flushed face.

Viktor laughed, his amusement rose just in par with the raven's embarrassment.

"You're quite a great skater," he said smoothly, and it only caused the raven flushed multiple shades darker.

"Wh-what. . . No, I'm not." There was a glint of sorrow, Yuuri lowered his head to hide the crimson. "You're better than me, Viktor. . ."

He had been so focused in his own emotions, neither did he realised the Russian leaning closer to him. Viktor put pressure against the metal bars, his fingers suddenly caressed the raven's chin and he lifted his head to see the blush worsened.

"You should have a bit more confidence, you know?"

"Ah, well. . . It's hard for me."

"Why? I think you've done well."

"Not well enough, though," his eyes wavered, "I'm still no —"

"It's beautiful."

The way Viktor said it, blunt and serious and low with a slight hoarse in his voice; the way he sounded so genuine even without the easygoing curl on his lips. It sent shivers to his spine, losing his control on his body altogether. His knees buckled, as their stares — when had he been staring? — became so much intense.

"Oh. . ."

"It's beautiful, uh. . ."

"Yuuri."

A smile crossed the raven's lips when he noticed the Russian had been fumbling to actually discover his name. He found Viktor's intimidating mien lowered when he found out of the hidden nervousness, which caused him to relax.

"Katsuki Yuuri," he repeated with a softer, mellow voice.

Viktor blinked, for a moment, finger on chin before he smirked; "Well then, you skate beautifully like your name," he chuckled and Yuuri's smile faltered.

"Wha —"

There was a cough from a distant, breaking the thick air of tension revolving around them. Hiroji had been watching them for a moment now, awkwardly and utterly surprised. He was fumbling random sputter of words, gaping much like a fish would do. Deadpanned, Yuuri released himself from Viktor's touch, another girlish yelp. They broke their close gap in haste, the shorter male fell onto his knees to wash off his blush, knuckles white from holding onto the bars real tight.

"S-S-Sensei, i-isn't that —"

"Hello, I assume you must know me, hm?" The Russian greeted the flabbergasted teen.

"A-Ah. . .", he turned to his mentor, who looked as much as helpless as himself, "Yuuri, what is he doing here?" He whispered.

No response, alas. Such a great help, wasn't he?

"Um, Viktor. . ." Yuuri rose once more, his pale skin returned to its original complexion at last. "How about we, um, have dinner together — if. . . If you don't mind?"

Minutes ago, he would've killed himself for offering, but then Yuuri was tired of being lonely. He was tired of brooding, tired of pressure — just perhaps, he was able to use Viktor as a cure. That didn't meant he wasn't blushing from giving out the suggestion.

But Viktor had been a bit surprised. Who was the one flustered just a moment before?

" _Okay_ ," the smile returned, brighter. Yuuri assumed the smile as a yes, instead of the foreign language.

There was a brief moment of silence, mostly because Yuuri's heart was thumping.

"S-See you then."

Only when the light-haired man left a few milliseconds after, the tight squeeze in his chest loosened and the raven exhaled out a large puff of air.

"Yuuri!" Hiroji became impatient toward the dazed state of his teacher. For God's sake, he was witnessing a twenty-three year old acting feeble and weak-kneed!

"E-Eh?"

"I'm asking why is Viktor Nikiforov here? In God damn Yokohama of all places?"

The raven shrugged, looking almost as lost as the teen. "I don't know. . .?"

"Argh!"

It was his first time talking to the famous figure skater personally, and up close — too close, to be exact. But the way Viktor had been expressing his compliments, had been watching his not-so-good skills, had been accepting his dinner offer. The way he had been talking, the slur of Russian accent between his broken Japanese, the glee in his voice and the constant chuckles.

Yuuri slapped himself.

He was no different from a high school girl with a senior crush.

Yes, like that typical love dramas in telly. It was sappy and stereotypical and downright cliché. The way the girls would have been, dreamy and blushing and giggling.

Minus the giggling, of course.

He could feel his stomach twisting into knots, even when he tried to revert his mind with something else — like Hiroji's upcoming competition. But no, Viktor just had to be occupying his every thought for now.

Viktor Nikiforov.

Top skater, his neighbour.

How funny.

Yuuri wasn't so sure if dinner would turn out great, after all. But who cares?

For the first time, a heavy weight was lifted off from his chest. Never in life had Yuuri felt so genuinely contented before.

And it was all thanks for a certain neighbour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> X for love, O for hate?


	3. Dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HAVE A CONFESSION : I DON'T KNOW HOW TO TUMBLR *cries*

"Wow, I never know we have a sushi delivery!"

Yuuri sighed. Both of them sprawling against the cold, hard floor of Viktor's apartment. The Russian had insisted on wanting to come in Yuuri's home. But damn, it was a mess and he had Pokemon posters — and some posters of the skating prodigy himself as a purpose of motivation, of course. Hence, that was why they ended up in the half-furnished apartment. It seemed like Viktor hadn't finished, since he was by his own after all.

He had been picking out dinner menus with Viktor for over an hour now. They'd been through pizza websites and many other — he was close on calling Pizza Hut, he swore — but Viktor insisted on something more Japanese since he was in Yokohama after all, not St. Petersburg. It was already nine, and the Russian's poodle dog was barking impatiently over his share of food — or whatever Viktor usually fed him with, whilst Viktor was still in dilemma between food consisted either raw fish or meat.

Apparently, Viktor was what the raven could describe as an enigma behind the gleeful character. Like a person with MPD, his personalities were a stretch at most times, even if they had been talking over just a few hours ago. As in, Viktor could be intimidating. But there were times when he was so carefree and oblivious. It depends.

The only thing that ever remained was his smile. How, at most times, was he able to keep the smile intact despite under some circumstances was beyond Yuuri's knowledge and assumption.

But for now, all that mattered was the relished feeling of a friend, a companion, and dinner.

Yes, _dinner_.

They need to pick something. Right here. Right now.

"Well, yeah. . . I mean, if you want sushi, we can order now," he suggested.

But Viktor was holding on another thought. Yuuri could guessed that much judging from the blue eyes that looked slightly distant and wondering, then the Russian asked out of the blue, "Well then, what's Yuuri's favourite food?"

"M-My. . .?"

"Yes, we could order your favourite food."

Yuuri flushed, "Well, my mom always made pork cutlet bowl for me after I won competitions before. . ."

"Oh, you were in figure skating competitions?"

The raven bit his tongue, hard and he almost choked. He did not meant for it to be leaked out so soon. It was too soon after all, and he felt his colour drained from his face. "Y-yeah, but I stopped. . ."

"Why?" He was more curious than startled.

"Well, I'm not that good at it," Yuuri huffed, and he rolled to have his back against the floor now.

Viktor didn't seem so amused at the response. There was a slightly dark mood lingered although just a for a brief pause, but then the Russian snapped his fingers as if he had made the best decision in his life. "Alright, I'm going for pork cutlet bowl tonight!"

Yuuri hesitated. He had been gobbling the food a few days after his loss last year, and his weight had been increasing rapidly ever since then. Katsudon wasn't a food to be taken so lightly after all — especially for one who easily gain weight like Yuuri himself — but last time he was depressed, and well. . . Katsudon was partially a treatment to ease his mind.

"Eh, okay. . . I guess I'll order two —"

Viktor cut him off immediately, a glint of menace in his smile, "Who says you're eating the same meal as me?"

The smaller man swallowed. "W-What do you mean?"

"Well, it doesn't seem like you're winning any competitions so far," he paused to see the raven's tensed reaction, "So I might as well forbid you for it."

"But I'm not joining any competitions anymore. . ."

"Then, until you lose some weight then. . ." Viktor laughed. "I see that you're still coaching over someone."

The statement made Yuuri pouted, surprisingly so it didn't offend him somehow. He felt like he was scolded by a coach more than anything, not a mockery of some sorts. "You're not my mom here."

"But I'm your neighbour," Viktor winked, "And a friend. If you don't, I might just call you 'little piggy' instead."

"N-No, please. . ." Yuuri sighed. But after a moment of silence, the two of them chuckled.

For the raven, partially, he did not mind the constant teasings that the Russian was giving. Yet, it wasn't what he had expected from the person he had been idolising. Who knew the famous skater could be so bold? And here Yuuri thought that he might be endearing and charming by heart, but what he was seeing was a sharp-tongued demon cloaked in an angel's face.

And fuck, he had never been this nerve-wrecked in his life before.

Perhaps, it was the long duration of abandonment that caused him to feel so awkward now. His palms felt wet from sweat, and dear God, he hoped Viktor couldn't see through the taut expression that he was about to burst in tears of remorse.

He was awkward, and excited, and nervous.

Of course, he's always nervous.

He just hoped he wouldn't blurt out something offensive — or, or — a sudden outburst of brashness.

"I'll just settle for sushi, then. . ." Yuuri managed to scowl, his expression partially genuine from the lack of pork cutlet bowl. How many months had he not touch such delicacy?

Well, he might lose the chance of his favourite food — but at least, he wasn't alone anymore.

"C-Can I at least have three bites?" He pleaded, brown eyes went large with a facade of despair.

Viktor's lips pulled into a tight line before grinning, "No."

"Two?"

"No."

"One?"

"Only if I spoon feed you," the grey-haired man winked and Yuuri let out an embarrassed shriek in return.

The thought itself made a small smile crept on the raven's lips as he reached out for his phone. And as his smiles would stretch, his cheeks would flush as well.

Yuuri wasn't aware of the pair blue eyes watching him, though.

* * *

 

"Eh, Yuu-chan. . ." As per usual, Mineko was studying Yuuri just as he reached the ice rink. "You look different today!"

The raven blinked, startled from the outburst. Like, what happened to him this morning? Did he went on using the most righteous product for his face or what? "What are you talking about?"

"You look happier," Mineko grinned. "Oooooh, was it that Viktor guy —"

"What?! What?! No, no, no, no!" The raven flushed to a deep crimson shad just in a short time and he flail his arms in denial, " I mean, yes, b-but it's nothing. Really?!"

"What did you do last night?" The woman gasped teasingly, "Hiroji told me something about a dinner date~"

Her tone marked the sing-song pattern of more teases. Yuuri hid his face behind the bag that he brought, each laughter from Mineko caused the bright shade to spread even further — until it was visible to his ears, really.

"We just. . . Had order some take-outs, ate in his apartment and talk. . ." He drawled on, but the looks the woman gave him was that of an unconvinced expression — plus the mischievous smile, fuck — so he stopped.

Mineko laughed out loud, at last, "Ah come on, Yuu-chan! I meant nothing bad, I'm just glad to see you happy! That's all," she paused, "After all, you've been Mr Gloomface for about a year. It's good to have a change!"

"Mr. . . Gloomface?"

"Yeah, you know. You always have that dead tired look on your face, but look at you now! You look like someone who just lose his virgi —"

"A-Ah! Okay, okay! I get it!"

She laughed more, amused to see the tortured, deadpanned look and the colour to drain from his face in an instant.

"Just kidding," she winked playfully — unlike Viktor's coquettish ones, "Now go, Hiroji's waiting. He's desperate because it's his second contest. Your payment's next week, by the way."

"O-Okay."

* * *

 

Yokohama was a pleasant place. Viktor loved the friendly people, occasionally there would be girls and women — sometimes a few guys — would stop him from his tracks and took pictures with him, just to leave red-faced and screaming.

He loved the food, and last night was a great experience. Especially when involving a pained expression from gawking at the delicacy of a fatty food.

In the end, he did rewarded Yuuri with a bit of a taste of his dinner.

And yes, it involved him feeding Yuuri in the most embarrassing way the Russian could imagine. Though, he did enjoy the blush the raven was making.

To Viktor, Yuuri wasn't anyone special. Not on the rink, not outside.

Yuuri was below the definition of perfection.

He was the just ordinary, just plain, just human.

Not that he had anything against his characteristics, in fact, he did not care whether Yuuri might wound up overweight or not. He might end up reluctant, seemingly socially awkward and pessimistic.

But Yuuri reminded him that sometimes, he was bound to not be perfect after all.

Viktor hadn't felt the way he thought Yuuri was to be, but he just think he might be if he was to dwell longer by his neighbour's side.

It was a good feeling.

Yet again, after his endless adventures consisting of walking, pictures, more pictures and getting lost — he wound up again at the rink Yuuri was working at. When he made his way there, just in time, the raven had been guiding some steps to the teenager he recognised the day before.

Not that his mind was toward the boy, the grey-haired man focused straight to Yuuri.

Focus, as the raven started to skate to the centre and spin.

Focus, as he did the chassé in a perfect, elegant manner and he continued to skate freely against the ice.

Focus, as Yuuri danced according to the music, controlling the rhythm with his own body.

It was until a thought crossed Viktor's mind, this was no steps of a pessimist. This was not a manner of a quitter, that if Yuuri was to be one, then he wouldn't have to coach kids after all.

That maybe, maybe, there was a chance for Yuuri after all to continue the passion he was radiating without his own awareness.

Again, when Yuuri ended revising the choreography, the boy seemed to nudge his mentor to gawk upwards. As he did, he let out another girlish yelp but this time, with one hand propped against his mouth to stifle the sound.

"V-V-Viktor?! Again?!"

"Bravo, Yuuri! That was marvellous!" The Russian applauded brightly.

"Uh. . ." The raven lowered his head, "Thanks, I guess. . ."

The two skaters exited the rink, Hiroji quickly fled to the changing room in a flustered mien (perhaps, wanting to avoid the unlikely situation full of innuendos). Yuuri headed straight to the bench area, and he had his back focusing on the taller man.

"Ah, you're already done?"

"Mhm, apparently you're quite late today."

"I took a stroll, nothing much."

"Oh, w-well," the raven gulped, "I'm about to go."

"Okay."

Viktor expected silence, as he left the upper bench and headed straight to the exit. But before he was about to leave, there was a hand holding his wrist for a brief moment before retaliating. The taller man turned to witness a flustered Yuuri before he state his purpose. A slight determination set on his pale face, and with an almost stentorian voice and clenched fists, Yuuri said to the Russian.

"Viktor, tonight!"

The light-haired man cocked his head, "Hm?"

"W-Would you. . ." He lowered his voice, "Want another dinner with me?"

Viktor blinked. Once, twice, three times. . .

And then he laughed. He just laughed, and laughed, setting rumbles on his stomach — and for a few minutes, he let the fuzzy feeling out. It made the Japanese even more flustered.

"Okay, dinner it is then."

Viktor left the ice rink, leaving the smaller man to stumble and buried his face deep to his knees and he just screamed.

He felt good, though.

Scratch that, Yuuri felt better than anyone else.

Because for now, he had a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My last update until end of November. Don't wanna flunk my exams. It's like SAT, but Malaysian version?


	4. Chores

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH LOOK A CHEERFUL CHAPTER

Three.

It had been three weeks since his stay in Yokohama. Three weeks since he decided to take a break from the intense competitions, three weeks since he told Yakov his sudden departure.

It had been an enjoyable experience ever since; a new and cozy home, new people, new language he had to settle in and Yuuri as his loyal companion. They'd been to the movies together, dinner by his own apartment or out in ramen shops (it became his favourite) and Viktor watching the raven skate with all his might. It might ended up sloppy in the end, but recently he had been adding the fluid movements as a part of his motivation to put his own skating to work.

Yuuri was, indeed, a wonder.

Not perfect, but still beautiful in his own way. Although whimsical and full with oddities, but Yuuri was the most human despite the flock of perfect skaters back in Russia. And though Yuuri was what he could described as socially awkward at most, or a stuttering mess with face constantly showered in blushes; messy and clumsy ― not just by skating, but the way he led his daily life; yet determined and bright whenever he wanted to be.

However, that day was not the case for sunshine and bees.

Viktor knew Yuuri was at home. He'd heard the raven if he was to leave home due to the loud crash upon his exit. Sometimes because of haste, sometimes because of a foreign impatience and temper ― Yuuri was a college student, it was typical for uni people to act so brash. Well, because that was how their life were, he supposed? And occasionally, not that he would wanted to tell his neighbour and friend, he was thankful the apartment had rather thin walls that he could hear the yells belonging to Yuuri.

Or the _thud thud thud_ of his footsteps pacing through and fro, as if he was in dilemma.

Makkachin howled a whiny tone toward his own silence, as he propped himself against the couch whilst waiting for the familiar tone to come. He hoped for a high-pitched yelp or a string of cusses hanging in the air. Just like usual.

Nothing.

"Hmm, Makkachin. . . I wonder what Yuuri has been up to lately. . ."

Makkachin barked, and wagged his furry tail in eager to show his own curiosity too.

"You're curious too?"

The dog barked again, padding against the floor in circles as his sign of impatience.

"Let's go to Yuuri's home then!"

It was strange. Usually, Yuuri was the one to come and visit his own abode. It felt strange to knock, not the one to greet at the doorstep. He suddenly felt nervous but feeling Makkachin prancing around his legs and barking calmed him for at least a bit.

One, two, the silence was eating him alive.

"Makkachin, I think Yuuri's not ho ―"

The door flung open, a tad harsh and far too quick to the Russian's liking. Out of pure shock, the older man flinched ― his grimace turned to pure disappointment once his striking blue eyes landed upon the tedious brown.

Tedious, like the exhausted state Yuuri had been.

Bags under the honey brown pools, his own colour faded from his skin. A body odour that told Viktor the raven had not bath for at least two days, and clearly a buzzed state from too many rounds of caffeine. Yuuri slouched in his pose, trying to crack a smile but was too tired to do so. His glasses was absent, surely the raven could not even bother to realise the fact that his vision was pure shit ― but whatever.

"Vi ―? Hey. . . C-Come in. . ."

Somehow, Yuuri's state surged a powerful desire to drag him to bed.

Viktor huffed, his arms akimbo and blue eyes squinted to give out a judgmental look. "Yuuri, how long have you been working?"

"One. . . Two days? Can't remember, don't care. . ." The shorter male dragged himself farther inside his own home, leading his way deeper into the living room on which Viktor was met with disaster. He tried not to gasp, he really did, but the abrupt pull of air in his lungs and the loud tone almost echoed. Viktor wasn't sure if it was really an apartment anymore.

This would not have been the very definition of dirty if it wasn't to be filled with unwashed mugs, scattered pizza boxes ― was that from Saturday?! ― and crumpled plastic and paper bags, cans of beers and soups and paper scraps. Jesus Christ, Viktor had not yet mentioned about laundry! The poodle that once scampering around his legs had proceeded that it was best for his own life if he stayed outside, and Makkachin did. In a hurry, too.

Even dogs knew the dangers of Yuuri's state of home, or rather his state of mind.

"What on earth happened to you?!"

The raven slumped himself against the sofa, the only space free from used shirts and boxes. "Don't have. . . Time. . ."

"Were you that busy?"

"I'm still not done," Yuuri whined, "Apparently my other colleagues are not much of any help after all. Like, I only asked one of them to do the introduction but she haven't even respond to my texts. But I know she read my Whatsapp because she gave me a blue tick ― a blue tick! ― but she didn't even confirm or email me. And this is due tomorrow! And I have a tutorial on Friday," Yuuri paused from his hasty rants to sob against the couch, "Can you believe that?"

Viktor, who had himself comfortably settled on the floor and leaned against Yuuri's back, tapped his chin, wincing against the pain that his dear friend had went through. "Yikes, group assignments could be really bad. . ."

"That's why. . . I guess you experienced the same thing too, hm?" The raven sighed and his fingers stroked the grey locks, his skin tingling upon his hair; smooth like silk, soft and comforting.

Viktor chuckled. "Nah, last time people offered to do my work. I guess I am a bit popular even in college. . ." He laughed brightly, and the raven poked his head out of frustration.

"That is so unfair!"

"Ow, Yuu ― It's just the benefits of charisma!"

"No, it's the fact that you're just perfect at everything you're doing!" He poked more, and scowled before sighing and buried his face against the soft couch. "Sometimes I wonder how's life like yours would be. . ."

The Russian remained silent, not being able to respond to such curiosity. Living a life like his? Sure, he had benefits. But was it fun to begin with when you realised their affection and admiration was hope for him to become someone he couldn't be? Was it fun when it ended up just the same as always?

Blue eyes peeled against the ceiling, wavering. Yuuri had hauled himself to a sitting position, bringing his knees to touch Viktor's head, and he found the Russian spacing out. Had he blurted out something wrong?

"Viktor. . .?"

The striking blue, once unfocused suddenly pierced sharp into the honey brown. The older man hummed and smiled, "Hm?"

"What are you thinking about?"

The Russian continued to ponder, this time however glancing at every corners of his apartment. It unsettled the raven, the way his eyes darted to the mess and his laundry and his stacks of homework.

"I was thinking of helping," the man smiled. Gone was the mischief and perky in his curl of lips, instead it gave Yuuri a semblance of warmth. Warm like honey melting on toast, warm like a bonfire in an ice cold winter. He felt himself wincing, not from discomfort but the foreign sense of gratefulness he never thought would surface.

His words had sent Yuuri back to his familiar crimson state. The flush spread to his cheeks, to his ears that eventually burnt bright. The raven clasped his mouth with one hand, hoping the maddened blush would stop. "Y-You want to?"

"Yeah," Viktor smiled, "Can't leave a damsel in distress, right?"

The raven laughed, a full body one at his words. From up close, Viktor could see the faint dimples on his cheeks and the way the scarlet dusted his cheeks. He found it somewhat remarkable, gazing the view with his head on Yuuri's lap. He poked the raven's forehead.

"Hey, what was that for?" Yuuri was still giggling.

"For poking my head," he chuckled and rose from the lean. He glanced toward the laptop, a MacBook Pro with a Microsoft document displayed on screen. Yuuri might need all the time he needed. He'd better be fast as well, and so Viktor proceeded to start his new job as a house caretaker. "Well, I should start with the dishes!" He rolled his sweater's sleeves up to his elbows, and whistled for Makkachin not to dawdle outside for too long. "In the meantime, why don't you get some sleep?"

Yuuri gasped, "N-No, I can't ― my assignments ―"

"Sleep."

It was close to an order, but intentionally a request since the grey-haired man couldn't stand another second gazing toward the obviously dead tired face. He looked lifeless, poor man. Whoever was cruel to ignore him was such a sod, the raw anger was visible within him as he shakily picked up multiple mugs at once.

Pouting, Yuuri was about to protest with another remark when he realised a flash of threat within the blue pools. He sighed, "Alright, but just for an hour."

"Two," he yelled, approaching the sink nearby.

"One and a half."

"Good enough, I guess," huffed Viktor with a pitied smile. "Remind me to spike your drink before you sleep again."

"Well then," Yuuri released a snort in between his laughter, "Remind me not to trust your drinks ever again."

The grey-haired man scoffed, "Oh, you'll definite have to next time. You can't escape from me," Viktor winked, feigning the perky mood to lighten Yuuri's state.

In a minute or so, just as Viktor would have assumed, the raven went into a deep slumbering state. So comfy by the couch, he did not get bothered when Viktor placed a blanket on his body and lifted his head for a small cushion he found laying beneath the pile of thick, dusty books.

"See, Makkachin," he said, "Yuuri is tired after all." A bark came out as a response. "You're glad that you came here too, hm?" The older man laughed.

But Viktor wasn't one to clean so often as well. Back in St Petersburg, he had helpers and hired maids to clean his own home whilst he flocked his schedule with a dozen practices and parties and interviews. Now that he had free time, he secretly wished that he had sacrificed a small amount of time to even practice cleaning his bedroom.

Well, he never thought that chores would be a difficult thing to do.

Bless the mothers.

With the brown poodle trailing here and there, instinctively picking up laundry to a red, empty basket he assumed for the dirty clothes, Viktor however was in great dilemma on how to start the chores. Books either too dusty, his fingers tingled with itch within seconds of touching or the dishes too crowded to even wash them in the sink. He huffed, arms akimbo and stared longingly, lost at whatever he was trying to do.

"How did others do it so easily, hm?"

Makkachin fondled its face against his lower legs, and Viktor almost screamed when there was underwear within its bite. "M-Makkachin, put it down!!!"

It wasn't the fact that an undergarment was, in fact, a matter of privacy to Viktor. Not that, after all. Truth to be told, Viktor seen Yuuri showered in his home last week — because his shower was broken and could only repaired the day after. So, he'd seen Yuuri's. . . stuffs. But it was the fact that his poodle was waggling them freely, as if with pride, close to his legs that he felt like his comfort had been breached after all. Flustered and all, he tried to push the dog to a certain distance but at the same time, not wanting to be loud to wake the raven from his nap.

Speaking of said raven, the other man had been watching the commotion with half-closed eyes. He buried the rest of his face with the cushion, concealing the rest of his face whilst pretending to snore after a ten-minute nap. He watched the disgust dubious on Viktor's face, wringing with his garment in a tug war with his dog. He wanted nothing more than to help, but it was a rare sight to see the Russian being in that kind of state. Yuuri decided to linger more, but the sight had the best of him. His fits of laughter became louder in each staccato snorts.

"Yuuri. . .?"

 _Oops_. "Y-yeah," Yuuri breathed, lowering the cushion to allow oxygen into his nostrils.

"You were watching the whole time?"

"Apparently, yeah."

" _Jesus_ ," Viktor muttered under his breathe, his palms slapping his forehead slightly to hide his embarrassment.

The shorter male had returned to his previous sitting position, eyeing the other with an amused look and he stifled a small laughter, "It's okay, Viktor. I can do it next time."

"But I wanna help," whined the older man, who finally settled sitting on the stool, chin resting on the small space by the occupied island counter. Makkachin was left forgotten as it find entertainment by picking up the rest of his garments into the basket as if playing a solitary fetch game.

Yuuri smiled, he slid down to the floor to meet with his laptop once again. "Being here is already fine with me," was what he said earnestly. But looking back to his words, the raven turned bright red and pretended an awkward snort. "I. . . I mean, you can just s-stay here w-watching TV while I do this. . ."

He glanced toward the grey-haired man. Viktor blinked, startled. But he himself had a smile slowly pulling from his lips. "That's good enough?"

Yuuri blushed, but he held onto his words. "Yeah."

He patted a spot beside him, attempted a grin and waggled the remote control as an invitation.

"You have all day to be here, after all."

Viktor took his invitation without any fuss or objection, sliding beside him easily and propped his chin on his knees. He kept silent at first, as if brooding with a deeper thought. But Yuuri somehow could guessed that he was just being upset with his failure of being a house maiden currently.

It was odd. Spending time with Viktor reminded the Japanese that in fact he was nothing more but a mere person. The fact that no matter how famous he could be, how much talent and beauty he was born with, Viktor was a person with skills and flaws. Not that he was actually pleased to find Viktor with his own flaws, but at some point — he was just glad that he felt at the same level as the Russian at that moment. Yuuri watched Viktor squinting his eyes, but the bright blue pools were unfocused, visualising an in-depth thought quite intently.

"You know," Yuuri spoke, breaking whatever reverie in Viktor's mind at that moment, "I'm glad that you can't do chores at all."

The other male choked, suddenly flung himself into fits of coughs. "Wh-What. . .?"

The raven shrugged ever so slightly, but he held on a warm smile. "I just am." He reached out to Viktor, and an index finger found its way to the older man's forehead and he tapped the head lightly.

"Thank you," he whispered and got up to head to the fridge.

Viktor was left agape, dumbfounded and at loss toward whatever Yuuri had spoken previously. He wanted to reach out, to ask, but even when Yuuri returned with two cans of beers did he never manage to utter a single word. Viktor clasped his hand to his mouth, though accepting the drink — cold against his touch — he felt his skin getting warmer and his own cheeks set ablaze in a foreign heat.

What had he got himself into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CAN'T WAIT FOR ANGST


	5. Melancholy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s short cause I’m welcoming myself back to this story.

 

As much as Viktor Nikiforov loved to skate, he loved watching as well.

There was a melancholy to each of the noirette’s dance, the blade of shoe marking the ice into spiral trails — like a drawing of some sort. Even with the lack of music, or to what he could assume the song playing in Yuuri’s mind, his languid gestures of hands and the way he made a loop had a sense of sorrow to it.

Not that it was a bad thing. In fact, Viktor had never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

If the practice session was Grand Prix, if only, he was sure Katsuki Yuuri — the man of sorrowful steps — would win the tournament. He was sure.

Somewhere deep in his chest, the silver-haired man was brimming with a sense of pride that he never tasted before. It felt brilliant, the butterflies fluttering in his gut and he was grinning the longer Yuuri was on the skating rink.

Bap!

Again, he woke from his deep thought when the noirette landed hard on his butt. Even from a distance, the Russian swore he saw the noirette wincing in pain. The way his legs were folding, one was dubiously not in a proper position. Sparkly azure eyes widening a fraction, the Russian knew what was happening to Yuuri. It had been approximately forty-five seconds since his fall — not a graceful one, of course — and Yuuri was still flat on the ground.

“Yuuri!” The Russian called out his name, voice tightened, the ambience was thick with tension and fuck, he was really really worried. From the seats, Viktor rushed to the ice rink. Who cares he was wearing normal shoes? Despite the slippery steps, the older man managed his threads slowly to the incapable Japanese man.

The noirette responded with his own name called, but Yuuri had his tone low and shaking and worried. Both hands pushing against the cold ice, Yuuri attempted to haul his ass back to his stance. “Oh no. . .” lips curling to a taut line of concern, dull brown flashed against widened azure, his lips quivering. Any moment now, Viktor knew he was going to burst into tears.

“H-Hey, Yuu —“ he gulped, trying to swallow his own anxiety as well. “It’s just a sprain, alright?”

“Yeah, but still,” Yuuri dropped his tone flat, head hung low and he tasted the bitterness of his fate.

“It’s okay, we’ll figure it out.” He took Yuuri by his arm, wrapping one around his neck before they took cautious steps against the rink. Somewhere in the counter, Mineko leaned backwards to peer at the loud commotion. She raised one brow at the sight, before coming from her zone with an audible gasp and an expression ready to scowl.

Her arms akimbo, like a young mother to Katsuki Yuuri, cheeks flushing and all — “What did I always tell you? You shouldn’t be too harsh, right? Now, see what happened!!” The woman rushed back to the enclosed room, leaving Viktor placing the exhausted noirette on the seat — Viktor had the chance to stroke his obsidian mane as a gesture of comfort — and she returned with an ice pack and some few ointments. “Yuu-chan, take this!” she handed out the pack, “Don’t come here until you’re fully healed.”

“Wha —“

“I mean it, or you’re fired!!!”

“How is that supposed to make sense?!” Before he could retort any further, the woman’s glares sent ripples to his spine and held back the argumentative words meant to debate back his working hours. Large, doe, brown eyes shifted to Viktor’s shining blue which gazed at him with a certain level of alarmed.

The noirette just realised one warm hand was resting on top of his head. It was comforting, but the embarrassment got to him more than the eased feeling. He jolted, before flashing at the startled silverette an apologetic smile when Viktor withdrew his hand.

“I’m sorry,” he sheepishly grinned before pausing, looking as if deep in thought, “Mineko here is right though, you need plenty of rest.”

“Aw,” the noirette hummed in disappointment. If he was any childish, the noirette could have stuck his bottom lip out and crossed his arms. But he remained muted, and nodded meekly. “Fine then.”

The disappointment resulted to his doldrums once again. Without the skating, he felt like a fish without water — pretty much dead and hollow and all was left for him was to be taken into consumption, and perhaps die again. Without skating — even when he felt like giving up most times — his life was nothing but a humdrum, not that university was helping the spark in his life. It only added pressure to his mental state.

Crippling, and surviving within the shaky bone structure he had built by his own.

But when Katsuki Yuuri felt like he was going to drown in the sensation of his woes again, he felt warm hands meeting his own. Tight and secured, the grip firm and flushed their heat which transferred to his icy cold palms. Three squeezes, as if to indicate a sign language of security. And he found himself gazing at the benign stare, azure pools burning holes into his own — burning holes deep into his gut. The smile, god, the curl of thin, pink lips against pale skin was tender and promising and it felt like _everything was going to turn out fine_ eventually.

Flustered, the noirette attempted to hide his blush. He lowered his gaze, only to find the rumbling chuckles belonged to the Russian man.

Warm feelings, _oh the warm feelings._

Even without words spoken, Yuuri closed his eyes — the heaviness, the bitter taste, the buzzing of anxious thoughts flushed from his system, and that was the first moment within several months ever did Katsuki Yuuri ever felt he was content.

Not happy yet, but it sufficed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t really know why I’m back. I haven’t been in this fandom for so long but when I reread this story back again, I’m thinking — “damn, what a waste. Let’s do something about this.”
> 
> To be honest, it’s been a year and so I forgot the original plot. Really. But I’ll pave my way back.
> 
> And also, I’ve reached 10k views in FFnet and 100+ follows and I couldn’t be any happier. Partial reason of my continuation. It’s a waste, I love my abandoned fics, really.


End file.
